


From Eden

by Insertpoetryhere



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, I got a headcanon and I wanted to fix the plot with it, I made this for me, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, i will die on this hill, no one approved of this, no one beta'd this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25926058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insertpoetryhere/pseuds/Insertpoetryhere
Summary: “I know I won’t make it. I’m not exactly… well, I’m not smart.”The more Martha learned about Moritz, the more she disagreed. Maybe he wasn’t Melchior Gabor, who had a bad habit of talking a lot and not really saying anything. Moritz may not talk much, and the way he talks and thinks may confuse someone who doesn’t really want to listen, but he was smart. Not in school, but in the areas that actually counted. He was smart with feelings, he could feel everything. And he cared so much, even about people who didn’t seem to care much about him.A heart like that really should count for something.
Relationships: Martha Bessell/Moritz Stiefel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 6





	From Eden

Martha hugged herself tighter as she trudged through the snow. Her feet were bare and bleeding as they scraped against the frozen rocks on the dirt road. She was cold, with only her thin nightgown protecting her from the elements.She sniffled, her tears frozen against her face as she searched for some kind of shelter in the dark of night. Everything hurt, everything was cold. How she was still moving was beyond her.

She looked to her right, seeing a farmhouse with one window illuminated by dim light. The light was just bright enough to cast a soft glow on a little shed off to the side of the house. Martha felt her breath hitch, looking between the window and the shed. If she was careful, she might be able to sneak in without alerting whoever was still awake at this ungodly hour. Her feet seemed to move entirely on their own as she shuffled off of the road and into the snowy grass. She let out a soft whimper as the snow touched above her ankles for the first time.

By the time she reached the shed, she was ready to collapse. The temperature in the shed was still cold, but not nearly as bad as it was outside. She fell to her knees, leaning against the wall and curling in on herself for warmth. She didn’t dare fall asleep as she listened for any sign that the owner of the house may have seen her.

A few minutes passed by when Martha heard the back door of the house open, shattering her sense of security. She began to cry again, scared for what this person may do if he finds a scared, helpless 14 year old girl hiding in her nightgown in the back of his shed.

She heard the door to the shed open and felt the familiar warmth of a lantern shine on her exposed side. Her eyes were screwed shut as she waited for the man’s response.

“Martha Bessel?” The voice was soft and gentle as the summer breeze and all too familiar. Martha’s eyes opened suddenly and she turned to look at the boy standing in the doorway.

He looked disheveled, with messy curls and a wool coat thrown over his tall frame awkwardly. His white shirt and grey trousers were wrinkled and one of his stockings had fallen down from his knee to the middle of his calf. Moritz Stiefel.

Martha had only met him a few times at church and in school (when her father had still allowed her to go), but she had never really formed any strong opinion of him. She knew that the overall consensus between most of the girls her age was that he was cute enough to be pleasing on the eyes, but his simple-mindedness was far too distracting for any of them to hold any genuine liking to him. Martha suddenly found herself banking on the rumors of his ineptitude being true, since it would mean he was probably too stupid to say much to her about her current circumstances (much less do anything to make them worse).

She waited anxiously for his response, feeling a shiver of fear as his eyes raked over her cold body. She squeezed her eyes shut again, afraid of what he might do next.

“... You’re hurt.” He finally said, his eyes fixed on her bleeding feet and slowly moving up to the bruises that could be seen forming on her thighs through her translucent nightgown. He quickly moved to take the jacket off of his back, leaning down and graciously offering it to Martha. The girl looked from him to the article of clothing a few times before taking it and draping it over her shoulders. She tried to murmur a soft “thank you” but her voice failed her.

Moritz helped her get her arms through the sleeves with gentle hands. “Can you walk?” He asked, setting down the lantern and bracing her arm with his own. Martha tried to stand, but her wince of pain made Moritz decide that the answer to his question was a clear “no”.

“Here,” He said, handing her the lantern. “This should help you warm up. I’ll carry you.”

Before Martha could protest, Moritz had scooped her up bridal style and was carrying her out of the shed and into the house. She watched how he moved his feet in a peculiar way as they made their way upstairs. It wasn’t until they reached the portion of the hallway that presumably led to Herr and Frau Stiefel’s bedroom that Martha realized he was avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked (a tactic she used herself on multiple occasions).

When the two finally reached Moritz’s room, the boy gently sat her on the bed. “Excuse me for one moment.” He said before disappearing back into the dark hallway.

While Martha knew she should have been frightened of being in a strange boy’s bedroom, there was something telling her that she had nothing to worry about. Instead of trying to find a way out, Martha looked around and inspected the small room.

It was rather plain, with a dresser, desk, chair, and bedframe made all from the same light brown wood. The blanket under her was a soft cream color, which matched the pillow. The only truly remarkable thing was the seer number of books that the boy had scattered across the room. The bookshelf and desk looked as though they had been filled years ago, but still the collection grew.

She picked up the book sitting on the bed next to her, a bookmark sticking out half way. She flipped it over and read the title. “The Picture of Dorian Gray?” She whispered to herself, running her fingers over the cover. She had heard some rather… scandalous reviews of the book in passing from women in the church, most of which questioned the very moral fabric of Herr Wilde himself. Martha wondered how Moritz had gotten a hold of a german copy in the first place.

“It’s not as bad as they make it seem…” Moritz said nervously. He was standing at the doorway, carrying not only bandages but also a cup of tea and a clean shift for Martha to throw on. “In fact, I think if the people who give it such harsh criticism would just give it a chance, they would probably agree with what Wilde has to say.”

Martha nodded, surprised by the boy’s genuine passion for the book. “I assume you heard of it from Melchior Gabor?”

“Well, yes and no.” Moritz smiled sheepishly. “He was the one to recommend the story, but he seems more interested in the scandal than the message. In fact, it seems to quite go against everything Melchi stands for.”

Martha blinked a few times. In all her life, she had never heard someone describe Melchior Gabor in such a manner. He had quite the reputation as a tortured genius of sorts, which made the girls swoon and their mothers panic. To hear someone describe him as such a shallow creature was quite intriguing to say the least. She was almost tempted to ask Moritz to expand upon that.

Instead, Moritz shyly placed the cup of tea on the nightstand. “I apologize, it isn’t particularly hot anymore… I made it earlier in the night.”

Martha took the cup of lukewarm tea gingerly, giving a nod of thanks before taking a sip. Moritz got to work, kneeling before her on the ground beside the bed. He winced at Martha’s bleeding foot before taking a warm cloth and gently cleaning the wounds. Martha winced, looking around the room for a conversation topic that could distract from the pain.

“You have quite the collection of books.” She said simply. “Wherever did you get all of these?”

Moritz grinned a little. “There are, despite popular belief, benefits to being close friends with the town's most literary radical. Though admittedly Melchior does have a tendency of making a simple book trading feel like the scandal of the century.” He looked back up to her with those earnest eyes. “Do you like reading?”

Martha gave a bitter smile. “The only book that my parents have in the house is the Bible. They made exceptions for our school books when my sisters and I were still in school, but that was it.”

Moritz nodded, awkwardly averting his attention back to his work. “I see… should you like- I mean, if it pleases you, I wouldn’t mind you borrowing a book from me. Only if you would like, of course.”

“Oh…” Martha was taken aback by the kind offer. “Well… Thank you. But I must say I am not a reader.”

Moritz looked as though he was going to say something, but before he could he saw Martha wince. He pulled back, looking up at her with concern.

“I’m fine.” She assured him, gesturing for him to continue. Moritz nodded hesitantly, continuing his work in silence. He finished quickly, fastening the bandages and standing up. He then acknowledged the night shift he had placed on the bed.

“I’ll uh… leave the room.” He said awkwardly. “So you can change.”

Martha nodded awkwardly, watching as Moritz left the room before also turning her attention to the shift. It was plain white, but soft and warm. She slipped the old one off of her, shivering as the cold air hit her skin. She wasted no time pulling the dry shift on over her head, sighing at the warmth it provided.

“All good.” She called out softly. Moritz opened the door hesitantly, his hand covering his eyes as he stumbled in. She laughed despite herself. “Really, I am.”

He pulled his hand off of his eyes, blushing. He looked over at his desk. The candle was much shorter then it had been, and the wax was threatening to drip down onto the wooden tabletop. “I still have a lot of work to do… you don't mind, do you?”

Moritz said it as if she hadn’t stumbled onto his property unannounced and disrupted his plans for the night. “Of course I don’t mind.”

He gave an awkward nod, walking over to the desk and continuing to scrawl his untidy notes by the light of his dimming candle. Martha leaned back, a strange calm washing over her. She wanted to wonder why it was that she felt so safe in the company of this young man that she did not know all too well, but her tired body did not let her dwell too long. Her eyes fell shut on their own accord, drifting her off to sleep.

She woke only a few hours later, still laying on top of the blankets. Moritz had fallen asleep at his desk, his face buried in the pages of his book as if it were a pillow. The candle that had been illuminating the room was now just a burnt out nub of wax. 

The only light in the room was the rosy light of dawn that was just starting to peek over the horizon. Martha knew she should probably get going soon, though there was a part of her that wondered what would happen if she just went back to sleep. Would Moritz let her stay?

It was a silly thing to consider. Of course he wouldn’t. She sat up as quietly as she could, letting her feet touch the cold wood floor. There was a slight creak, but not enough to wake Moritz from his deep sleep.

She stood up, looking towards the door and going to take her first step. Her eyes suddenly moved to a small pile left neatly by the door. Curious, she knelt down.

There was a shawl, a pair of old boots, her other nightgown, and a note written in surprisingly neat penmanship. 

“Don't worry about returning the boots and shawl. Mother won’t notice they’re gone anyway. Yours, Moritz.”

She smiled, then looked back over to the boy who was fast asleep with his homework as a pillow. Carefully, she took the blanket off of the bed and draped it over his shoulder, took the pen off of his desk, and wrote a quick “thank you” underneath his note. She tucked the slip of paper under his arm, and she was gone just as quickly as she had appeared.

\---

Martha walked arm in arm with Thea through the street. The afternoon sun was shining down full force, making the girls wish that they had brought hats along with them. 

“I think we should take a walk by the river!” Thea mused, smiling. Martha rolled her eyes.

“You just want to see if Melchior took a raft out!” Martha pointed out. “Besides, if we take that way, we’ll be late for our charity work.”

“Don’t tell me that you don’t want to see?” Thea teased, bumping her friend with her hip. Martha laughed, pushing her back.

“I am painfully uninterested.” Martha scrunched her nose. Melchior Gbor, for all of his vast intellect, simply was not her type. 

Thea looked up at her, a smug grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Then who does interest you, Martha?”

“Not a soul!” The older girl’s spine straightened. “And I would much prefer it to stay that way. We’re far too young for romance, anyway.”

“Come now, you don’t truly believe that!” Thea cried. “There has to be someone who sparks your interest! Who is he? Maybe I could find some way to set you up, my brother knows all of the boys in town!”

“You know Hanschen wouldn’t help you with something so trivial unless you paid him.” Martha pointed out. “Besides, I’m telling the truth. There’s simply no space in my heart for those kinds of feelings.”

“...Is Georg Zirshintz?” Thea pressed on.

“No.”

“Ernst Robel?”

“Surly not.”

“Bobby Maler?”

“No.”

“Dear lord, Don’t tell me it’s Hanschen?”

“Heavens no!”

“... Otto?”

“Are you quite finished?”

Thea sighed in defeat. “I suppose I-”

“Martha!” A familiar voice called out. Both girls whipped their heads around, looking behind them as a tall boy with curly hair walked over to them in a rush.

“Moritz!” Martha greeted, the surprise written on her face like printing on a page. She hadn’t seen the boy in nearly a month, and their last meeting had not necessarily been anything to base a meaningful friendship around. Nonetheless, he looked quite glad to see her, as if they were the best of friends. Something about it made her heart skip a beat.

“Ahem!” Thea cleared her throat, pulling the other two out of the strange trance they seemed to have almost fallen into. “Is this important? We need to get going or we will be late!”

This made Martha laugh. “Thea, you were just talking about taking a detour yourself.” She dared herself to make eye contact with him. “Besides, I’m sure we could spare a moment.”

“Don’t worry Th- I mean, Frauline Rilow. I don’t intend to take up too much of your time.” He spared a smile in Martha’s direction for only a millisecond before reaching into his bag. “I just thought you might enjoy this book. I just finished reading it, and I know you had expressed interest in it last time we had met.”

Martha took the book from his hands, looking down at the simple black writing on it’s grey cover. “The Picture of Dorian Gray…” She read under her breath before looking back to him with a knowing grin.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you waiting.” He said awkwardly. “Good day, Frauling Bessel. Frauline Rilow.” He gave Thea a last minute, polite head nod of acknowledgement before rushing back to the group of boys staring at them in awe and confusion.

Thea had barely waited for Moritz to walk out of earshot before she began listing off her criticisms. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a boy so uncharismatic. I didn’t even know he knew how to read.”

Martha just hummed in response, running her fingers over the surface of the book. Thea looked at her, confused. “He called you by your first name.”

“Well, yeah. You call me by my first name all the time.” Martha pointed out, only looking up for a moment.

“Well…” Thea hesitated. “That’s different!”

Martha hummed again, this time with a smile tugging at her lips. When she looked up again, Thea was looking at her with absolute disgust, as if she had pieced something together that Martha hadn’t yet. 

“You can’t be serious.”

\---

Books like this were not allowed in the Bessel household. Getting it in without her Mama or Papa noticing was a task all on it’s own, but actually finding time to read it was proving to be impossible. She would wake up in the middle of the might, read for about an hour, and quickly rush off to bed before anyone noticed she had left.

She had to say, she now knew where Moritz’s vocabulary came from. The book had many words that she did not understand, so many that she would write a list down every night, ask around the next morning, and then reread the portion again. With her limited knowledge and time, it took her about a month to read the book.

She finished the final page, closing the book slowly. The read itself had been quite good, once she figured out what it was saying. The flowery language got in her way a lot, but the message at its core was… fascinating, to say the least.

She looked back down at the book, a sudden pang in her chest as she remembered who had given it to her. She looked between her pen and the book, suddenly getting an idea.

\---

“Moritz!” The boy turned around, seeing Martha standing at the top of the hill that led to the valley where he and the other boys were occupying themselves in various, unproductive ways. Their school books lay open and abandoned on the grass, with Otto, Georg, Hanschen, and Ernst attempting to play some strange version of baseball, but with no bases and a large stick as a bat. No one could remember who exactly had brought the red ball with them to study, but they all know that whoever it was had meant to create a diversion. Current bets were on Georg.

Hanschen was pitching, though notably not well. In fact, it seemed as though his real goal was to hit Melchior, who was laying in the shade of a tree and going on about something he had read recently. Though, Ernst was now up to bat, so Hanschen’s pitching skills might make some kind of miraculous recovery.

Moritz stood up from his spot next to Melchior, smiling as the girl jogged to meet him at the base of the hill’s slope.

“Hey!” He said, then mentally kicked himself for how overly-enthusiastic he sounded. But Martha, ever the angel that she is, either didn’t notice or ignored it. He felt his face heat up.

“I finished it!” She announced, producing something from her bag. 

Moritz blinked a few times. “What?” Then, he looked down at the book that she was holding towards him, and felt quite foolish. “Oh! The book! Right.”

He smiled, taking it from her hands. “So what did you think?”

“It was quite good.” She said simply. “It took me a while to fully understand it, though. I had to look up a lot of the words.”

Moritz smiled, but froze up when he suddenly realized that he had no clue what to say next. Was he supposed to let the conversation die now? Did he want to let it die?

Martha looked over his shoulder. “Um… I think your friends would like you to go back over there.”

He looked over his shoulder as well, seeing the boys staring at them quite intently. He turned back around, suddenly noticing a group of girls standing at the top of the hill. “I think your friends want the same.”

She turned around as well, watching the group of girls whisper and giggle as they watched the two of them stand there, unsure of what to do next.

She turned back to him, a little smile playing on her face. The sneaky kind that he was so used to seeing on the faces of his friends, but had never made his heart hammer like this. “I particularly like the passage on page 219.”

Then she left, rushing up the hill to meet with her friends while Moritz just stood there dumbfounded. The boys gathered around him not long after she had disappeared from his sight.

“I refuse to believe it.” Hanschen announced. “I absolutely refuse to believe it.”

“Moritz what did she say?” Georg jabbed him in the ribs. “C’mon, what did she say?”

Page 219…. Moritz opened the book, flipping pages wildly until he landed on the page in question. A single scrap of paper was tucked neatly into the binding, reading “Old willow tree, river bank, 4 pm”.

“What time is it?” He asked both urgently and absentmindedly, wanting to pinch himself just to see if it was real.

Melchior raised an eyebrow at him. “About 3:30 I think… why-”

“I’ve got to go.” He quickly ran back to gather his things before waving goodbye to his friends. The other boys just looked between themselves before reluctantly returning to whatever they had been doing before. Moritz heard a loud “ouch” come from melchior as he left, and he laughed a little at the knowledge that Hanschen had completed his task.

He knew exactly which willow tree she was talking about. All of the local children used to meet there when they were younger, swinging from the switches and playing pirates… or at least they did until Melchior and Hanschen accidentally swung into the river and nearly drowned. They had to send Ilse Neumann (the fastest runner) back into town to get help pulling both boys out of the water. All of their parents decided right then and there to forbid their children from playing there.

As Moritz parted the hanging branches, revealing the little hidden paradise that he hadn’t stepped foot inside in nearly half a decade, he wondered if that ban still stood. Part of him really hoped that it did.

“You came.” Martha said, standing up and brushing the dirt off the back of her dress. She said it calmly, with neither excitement nor disappointment. She just seemed content to be in his company.

Moritz smiled at her sheepishly. “I did.” He looked up to the shortest branch on the west side of the tree, remembering how it had snapped under the weight of two nine year old boys all those years ago.

Martha followed his eyes, and a short laugh bubbling from her lips. “That was quite a day, wasn’t it?”

“I-” Moritz stared at her, dumbfounded. He didn’t recall Martha being there that day. He could say for sure that she hadn’t been there in the town square with the rest of them being reprimanded by both the town doctor and priest for their reckless behavior. “I don’t remember-”

“I ran away the moment they sent for the doctor.” She explained. “I wasn’t supposed to be playing here in the first place. Had my father found out, he would have-” She stopped for a moment, pursing her lips before continuing. “He would have been very upset.”

Moritz nodded. “And yet, here you are.” He smiled at her, trying to mimic the sneaky look she had given him earlier. I must have worked, since she gave him a smirk of her own.

“Well, since then I’ve gotten better at sneaking around.” She announced. “I take a strange level of pride in it, actually.”

Moritz laughed. “So, was there something you wanted to discuss?” 

Martha pursed her lips again, a habit that Moritz desperately wanted to learn to decode. “Moritz, how long have we known one another?”

“About ten years.” He answered, thinking back to their first bible study when they were about 4. They couldn’t even write their names, but they were expected to understand the scripture.

“You’re wrong.” She said softly. “We have grown up together, but we’ve never known each other at all. Don’t you find that strange?”

Moritz thought about it before letting out a sad laugh. There was a moment of silence as he thought of what to say. Moritz looked over to Martha, who was still smiling sadly at the ground. He smiled, thinking of an idea to lighten the mood. He stiffened his posture, mocking the middle aged men that he saw in church and on the street. He stuck his hand out to her. “Then allow me to introduce myself. I’m Moritz Stiefel.”

She laughed as well, giving him a comically stiff handshake. “Charmed to meet you, Herr Stiefel. I am Martha Bessel.”

“Well, Frauline Bessel.” Moritz moritz laughed. “What is your favorite color?”

She gave him a strange look. “Pardon?”

Moritz let his posture loosen, giving a shrug. “Well, you said we don’t know each other. I figured this might be a good place to start.”

“... Green.” She smiled. “Yours?”

“Blue.” Moritz paused, before continuing. “And Purple. They’re both so calming.”

Martha smiled at him, a wonderful feeling blooming in his chest. “My turn. Favorite subject in school.”

“Poetry.” He said it without hesitation. “There are no right answers… or at least, there aren't supposed to be. Herr Vogel still tries to claim that mine are wrong. And you?”

“Science.” Martha’s eyes lit up. “It’s just so… interesting! I wish I knew more about it.”

The two continued to talk, sitting under the shade of the tree and watching as the sun began to set over the river. Moritz found that he liked how Martha looked in the fading light. As the light dimmed, Martha took a second to look around.

“It’s getting late… I should probably head home.” She said, starting to get up.

Moritz scrambled up after her, tripping over himself. “Allow me to walk you home?” It did not sound as confident as he had hoped it would.

Martha seemed to pale a little. “No… that’s probably not a very good idea. My father would probably get upset if he saw you.”

Moritz found that strange. He was no expert on parenting young women, but he knew that if he was a father he would appreciate it if someone did not let his daughter walk alone in the dark. It would be very easy to get lost or hurt… or worse. The thought made him press the issue a little bit more. “May I at least walk you part way? When we get close enough to see the house, I’ll leave.”

Martha stopped for a moment before nodding slowly in the dim light. “Alright… Okay.”

The two walked, the conversation lulling a bit, but mostly due to how difficult it was to navigate through the winding dirt roads in the dark. Soon, the lights of a farmhouse appeared in the distance. Even with the distance, Moritz could see the silhouettes of young children running through the house and smoke coming through the chimney. They walked a little closer, and he saw a big dog laying lazily on the front porch. His head popped up and his tail wagged as he saw Martha coming in the distance. It all looked so welcoming…

So why did Martha tense up beside him?

She turned to him, giving a strained smile. “May we meet again tomorrow? Same time and place?”

He nodded, looking from her to the house. She gave a quick nod in return before rushing off to the house. Moritz waited, watching her climb the stairs and walk in through the front door before he turned around, heading to his own house.

He closed his eyes, imagining that he was going somewhere that looked just as welcoming as the Bessel house.

\--- 

Martha arrived at the willow tree a half an hour earlier the next day, feeling eager to see Moritz again. She had a bag slung over her shoulder with two jam sandwiches that she had snuck out of the house, a few apples from a nearby orchard, and a bottle of milk she had bought from one of the stores in town on the way.

“What are you doing here so early?” Moritz asked, surprising her as he popped his head through the whip-like branches. She jumped, almost dropping her bag before smiling at him.

“I could ask you the same.” She pointed out, opening her bag up. “Hungry?”

Moritz raised an eyebrow. “A little, why?”

Martha grinned, pulling the two sandwiches wrapped in paper out of the bag and presenting them as if they were precious jewels. “Strawberry or cherry?”

Moritz laughed. “Uh… Strawberry?” She tossed the paper parcel that she had labeled with a small “s”, which he caught with surprising ease. Then, she dumped the apples from her bag onto the grass and took the milk over to a rock by the river so it would stay cold.

“What’s all of this for?” Moritz asked, starting to gingerly unwrap his sandwich. 

Martha smiled up at him, standing proudly. “Surprise!”

Moritz began to laugh. “Is that the explanation?”

“Yes.” Martha said with childlike joy, gathering her own sandwich off of the ground and unwrapping it. She took a bite, the cherry jam leaking out messily. The two teens laughed at the red mustache it gave her.

“I have something for you too!” He announced, grabbing his own bag off of the ground and fishing out a book. He walked over to her, holding it out for her to take.

“What’s this?” She asked, taking it from his hands and looking at the cover. The cover was dark green, with the word “Frankenstein” and an elaborate illustration all done in black ink. There was something about this book that was strange, the pages were all still crisp and white, as though it had just hopped off of the printing press and into her hands. “I don’t remember this being on your shelf.”

Moritz blushed. “It wasn’t… You said you like science, and I heard Melchior talking about this book. It seemed like something you might enjoy, so I went out and got it.”

Martha’s eyes widened. “Moritz, did you buy this?” She looked down at the book again, now holding it much more carefully as if it were made of glass. Moritz nodded sheepishly.

“It wasn’t a lot.” Moritz assured her, looking embarrassed.

Martha finds herself holding the book closer. “Thank you… I’ve never had someone… Thank you!”

Moritz smiled, visibly relaxing as he settled into the grass. He picked up his sandwich. “I’ve never had someone smuggle me a sandwich before. I guess we’re both experiencing new things.”

The two lied back, watching the breeze rustle the thin branches. She turned, looking at Moritz. His eyes were glazed over and half closed as if he was about to fall asleep.

That’s when she knew she was in love.


End file.
